Running Wild


Max.jpg Charlie.jpg

Date: 2011.05.03
Location: Outside of Eastern Weyr
Synopsis: Just returned from his business up north, Max heads out for a ride to clear his head and comes across Charlie as well as what looks to be a bunch of runnerbest rustlers.
Rating: PG18 - language
Logger: Max

Not an hour ago, Max had returned from the business he’d had up on the northern continent but rather than drop by the Headwoman’s office to apprise her of his return and visit with his daughter for a bit, he’d saddled up the big black stallion and headed out of the Weyr hoping that the fresh air and time alone would help to dispel the funk he couldn’t quite seem to shake.

Out passed the river that ran nearby, over the bridge and onward, Starflight’s powerful strides eating up the distance swiftly as he follows along the beside trail used by those coming to and from the Weyr and then swerving away from it, seeking out the isolation of the open plains.

It has been a busy and dusty day for the ex Holder. Up early which is unusual and out to the stables to saddle up the chestnut mare that delivered her to the Weyr. It's on this small yet surefooted mount that she's cut across the usual trails. With such a light load, the beast is making good time and there's even a smile on the woman's face as she gallops down the road. She doesn't see the other rider, but he might be able to see her from his vantage point. There's a small caravan settled at the fork in the road, a few rough looking traders attending horses that stand out like a sore thumb amoung their usual nags.

As much as he’s out here to clear his mind, the threat of wild feline and those that might be of a mind to lay claim to having taken out southern’s crimelord, means that Max hasn’t entirely relaxed his guard. As such the small caravan with the dubious looking traders tending a herd of runners doesn’t escape his attention. Neither does the young woman astride the chestnut mare that appears to be hurtling toward, though he doesn’t recognize her as being the thrower-of-klah just yet. A flash of concern has him giving a slight twist of hand and press of knee and Starflight sweeps about, putting them on a direct course of interception with Charlie and her mount.

The traiders do certainly look the sort you wouldn't greet with open arms without seeing their papers (as it were). Not as dangerous as a wild feline OR the men Max has to worry himself about but still. Charlie doesn't have such concerns in her pretty head, or else she's just foolishly brave or looking for the thrill of danger. The sudden arrival of the black stallion is noticed first when her mare veers to the side but by the puzzled look over the runner's neck it's clear she doesn't match this rider with 'Max'. For a moment it seems that she's not going to pull up short at all but a few 'testing' strides and she gives in, drawing up her reigns as she straightens in the saddle. They're still some distance from the traiders.

Traders in his ‘territory’ had better be there with his say-so or else there’s going to be an interesting conversation had. That’s neither here nor there right now as Max, hat pulled down low over his eyes and flattened against Starflight’s neck is more interested in cutting the female rider off before she catches their attention. And so it is that as Charlie pulls her mount up at the last moment, so the big black stallion comes to a sudden stiff-legged halt, tossing his head about and then starting to jink about in place as if he were annoyed for having had his run cut short. Sitting the fidgeting runner with ease, Max lifts the brim of his hat with a gloved hand, revealing his face as a slow smirk peels into place when he identifies the blonde to be the little harridan from a few days back, “Well, well, well, the woman can ride.” Approval set across his tone.

The little mare huffs and blows at the stallion and even has the fine attitude to squeal at him, Charlie looks amused as she quiets the runner with a pat along her cresting neck, "you little harlot. It's just a 'boy'." She looks up at Max, as though she might just say something flirty, there's that look in her eyes you see. When it dawns on her, the expression falls into disapointment, and embarassment, she can't flirt with -him-. There's no answer about her riding, she just smiles and makes as though to walk her runner around his, "Can I help you Stable Master?" She's breathless though, no hiding way. Riding is exciting.

Starflight, far from put off by the haughty little mare’s antics dares to stretch his neck out toward her, teeth bared and he nips at the air just a hair’s breadth from one of her ears. Max does nothing to stop him, knowing that as big and ornery as the stallion can be that he’d never actually inflict harm upon one of his own kind. “Harlot?” amusement slips into Max’s tone and then he catches that look in Charlie’s eyes and his smirk takes on a knowing edge to it. When she looks to be about to try and skirt around him, the beast manager nudges his mount forward, effectively blocking her path. Dark eyes flick openly up and down the breathless blonde and then he gives a crooked grin, “Naw, I was born this way.” That his cocky response to her last. A nod then goes in the direction of the traders camped out up ahead, “You know ‘em?” Giving her the benefit of the doubt before going all protective Alpha male on her.

Charlie's expression is one of warning to the stallion's owner a fraction of a second before the little mare pins her ears and takes a bite back at the stallion and crow-hopping as she half-rears. Charlie sighs, drawing the reigns up tighter until the mare's nose tucks to her chest, "If you're not going to pull your mount up, I suggest you move." She does sigh though, her mood too good to be dampened even by dealing with hormonal runners. She turns the mare around a couple times to settle her, and ends up stopped facing Max but putting some distance between the beasts, "Know…'em?" She peers around and then squints, "You're not spying on me are you?"

While Charlie may be in a good mood, Max is somewhere between numb and brooding given the nature of some of the business he’d had up north and so her warning look earns her a challenging lift of brow but rather than get into another verbal slanging match with the blonde, he backs Starflight up with a cluck of tongue and flick of reins. And then he utters a snort in response to the accusation of spying on her before asking with a lift of brow, “Why. Should I be?” Another glance in the trader’s direction and then his attention comes slowly back to her, dark eyes narrowing slightly with suspicion, “You got somethin’ you don’t want me knowin’ about?”

The sour mood doesn't go unnoticed by Charlie but for now she doesn't probe. Her mare is given a bit more of her head back but the little creature isn't well schooled enough not to fidget and paw. "I have a lot of matters I'd rather keep private. I imagine you might change your opinion of me…" She speaks, ignoring the runner under her, "I do have business down this road though. You're making me late."

Where the mare might not be well schooled enough to keep still, Starflight simply has too much energy and is currently jerking his head up and down, wanting to be given his freedom to streak off once again. Keeping a firm grip on the reins Max’s mouth twitches with faint amusement, “You’re assuming I have an opinion of you.” Interest colours his expression for her having business somewhere along the road. “It ain’t safe for you to be out here on your own, darlin’.” And no, he’s not trying to belittle Charlie with that comment.

Charlie's laugh is bright and filled with challenge. She gives a toss of her head much as the willful little mare is doing, "Well, perhaps you should be my bodyguard then." With a hoot she digs her heels into the mare's flanks making the chestnut dig her feet in and take off like a shot. Danger must be her middle name.

Before Max has a chance to answer, the mare is off taking Charlie with her and for the first time in a long time, a grin paints across his features. Starflight needs no further encouragement as the mare goes streaking by him and leaps forward, tail streaming out behind him, his rider low against his neck giving a whoop of encouragement, the thrill of the chase upon them!

If Charlie's heart isn't fully into his 'escape', the little mare's certainly is. Her tail streams like a banner of fire behind her as she thunders down the dirty road. A hoot from Charlie lifts up as she girl sneaks a look behind her to see how close Max is and she all but lets go of the reigns, giving the runner all of her neck. So completely reckless to have so little control over such an unschooled mount. ah well, she'll deal with the scolding later, for now, she feels alive for the first time in a very long while.

Starflight eats up the distance; his head having been given to him from the get go with reins only lightly held in his rider’s hand. If there’s any concern for Charlie putting herself in danger on an unruly mount, a scolding is the furthest thing from Max’s mind right now, his attention fixed firmly on the pair ahead as they draw closer, simply enjoying the rush of wind and steady beat of hooves as they pound along the trail. That hat of his must be glued to his head given that it hasn’t been whipped off.

At this speed, it's not going to take them any time to reach the traiders. Just another bend in the road to go and they'll be in sight of the men camped out and waiting for them. Charlie sneaks another look over at Max and has to grab onto an extra handful of mane as the mare veers sharply to the side to get onto better footing. There's a moment when it looks like she might not keep her seat, but her skills in the saddle come handy right then as she re-secures her foot in the sturrup. It's just enough of an unbalacing to mess with the mare's speed and give the larger mount the advantage. Cursing and laughing, Charlie straightens in the saddle but doesn't slow, just gives a smirking grin over at Max.

As Charlie finds herself unseated, concerns flashes into place and Max utters an oath though he can’t help being impressed with how she’s able to recover herself once again. Starflight indeed takes advantage of the slip and soon draws alongside the little mare, his rider returning that smirk with an amused shake of head and then they’re around the bend and almost on top of the trader’s camp, the small herd of runners startled into snorting and scattering out of the way as the pair come storming into view. A light tug of reins and Starflight does his sudden stiff-legged screech-to-a-halt affair. “Do you live like you ride?” Max puts to Charlie with a crooked grin still in place, meaning by-the-seat-of-her-pants.

Bringing the mare into an equally short-up stop is a tricky thing and staying aseat a rearing beastie is a completely different talent but Charlie somehow manages, though there's a moment of fear on her expression until all four feet are on the ground again. Then, when she's still seated, she laughs, giving Max a wild-eyed nod and a breathless, "Oh yes. What other way is there?" The Traiders look very put upon that their charges have been stirred up by the arrival and the leader comes out huffing and puffing, "What's in blazes is all this then?!"

Instinctively Max leans over and reaches a hand toward the reins as the mare rears up and almost throws Charlie. “Jays woman! Life ain’t too much fun with two broken legs and an arm twisted backward you know!” And that’s about all the scolding she’ll get from the beast manager on the matter of her riding an unruly mount like some kind of a she-devil. He can’t help the smirk and slight tease that comes next in response to comment on what other way she might have to live, “The prissy way of hurling hot klah at us barbarians?” With the leader of the traders making his appearance, Max then settles a cool expression into place and with a thrust of chin toward the unnerved runners asks, “These here runners yours?” suspicion at them being stolen evident in his tone.

Swinging down from the mare once she has all four on the ground, Charlie smooths a hand through her wind-tangled hair and grins up at Max as he asks the traider about the runners. The big traider glances at the woman as though expecting her to say something but she's too busy getting her gloves back, "Runners ain't mine, just delivering them." He growls to Max. "What's it to you?"

Max hadn’t been about to dismount, preferring to keep the advantage of height and easy exit if things turned sour. However when Charlie swings down he gives a slightly exasperated roll of eyes and does the same muttering under his breath as he does, “Why is every woman on this continent beggin’ for common sense?” At the trader’s challenge a brow goes up and he moves in almost lazy fashion to stand just slightly ahead of the blonde to better insert himself between the two if need be and a smirk fashions itself about his mouth. “To me? Nothin’ if you’ve got legitimate paperwork with you,” he drawls, gaze flicking once again over the runners assembled.

Charlie smiles winningly at Max for his eye roll and pulls the gloves from her hand one finger at a time. She even lets him cut in front of her, her expression the picture of vacant innocence. The big traider leans to one side and fixes the woman with a dark look when she /still/ doesn't speak up and then rocks back and puts his hands on his hips, "I ain't gotta show you Shiiiit." He drawls, throwing his chin out. From behind Max there's an approving little murmur from the girl.

That brow lifted look remains except that Max sets it onto Charlie now for a smile was the last thing he'd expected. A snippy comment or perhaps even a smack across the face with one of her gloves, but not a smile. Catching the trader's look around him to the blonde, the beast manager flicks a glance back to her and then sets the man with cold smile that challenges at the same time. "See somethin' you like back there, mate?" And then the trader goes and says what he does and Max takes a half step forward, his expression hardened into an unyielding line, "I never forget a face." Warning set into his tone, "And I ain't seen yours around before."

A meaty paw rubs one cheek and then the other as Max gives him the ol' staredown, "Liiisten buddy, we're not on weyr lands and we don't gotta answer to no stranger poking their nose in. If you're thinking of rustling these here runners, you better come back with more men and send the pretty skirt home." Charlie gives a little gasp at being called a 'Skirt'—particuarly when she's wearing those very nice lambskin breeches. "Owner of these here runners won't take too kindly to anyone getting fool-ideas see." The runners are very nice, too nice to just be milling around without a few more eyes on them. Perhaps that's why a couple more men are wandering over from the direction of a wagon to see what the fuss is about.

That cold smile remains turning into a smirk, dark eyes glittering as Max gives a shrug, broad shoulders lifting and falling beneath his jacket. "Naw, these ain't Weyr lands," he agrees and boldly takes another step forward, "but they do fall under the hand of another you're not gonna want to piss off if you're movin' about without his say so." Pointed the look as he references the darker side of life and the men who control it without giving away his identity. "I'm thinkin', maybe I should head back and have a word with him, aye? See if he don't maybe wanna come down and say 'Howdy' to you good folk," he continues the ruse laying threat of a pissed off crimelord into the mix while making it seem like he might work for the man. There's only vague amusement for Charlie's indignant gasp though his attention doesn't leave the trader, peripheral vision picking up those on approach. He's not backing down either and his hands lift to rest lightly on his hips, conveniently close to the knives sheathed at either side.

"Oh for goodness /sake/." Charlie huffs when the men up their bristling. Her traider isn't cowed by the threat and even takes a step towards Max, "Like I said, I don't gotta tell you Shit. I'm here fair and square and I think 'he' would even find it insulting that honest traiders are being harrassed. You haven't said why it is any business of yours." It might have gotten even more sketchy between the two men if the apprent leader had not been roused to the brewing fight and come out of his tent. Garbbed in brilliant robes, the gawdy traider comes strolling over, clapping his hands. "What's this? What's this? Oh Charlie! You little vision. Why didn't you come see me right away. Mario—go get some water or…better yet, check the weanings hhmm? They are in a tizzy." Pretending not to notice the glare from either his man, or Charlie he whisks right up and bursts her fun-bubble. "Tell Uncle Wilms what's going on here hmmm? Did the bad man scare you?"

“Honest?” sardonic amusement sets into Max’s tone, “Honest men wouldn’t have no problem, showin’ papers.” He points out, standing his ground mouth curling about a dark smile of cold anticipation as the trader steps in toward him, “Lookin’ to dance with me are ya?” And then a flash of colour and a new voice catches the southern crimelord’s attention and he’s left staring at the man that approaches. It takes a moment or two for his brain to catch up and realize that Charlie has in effect…been playing him all along. Dark eyes snap to the blonde and his jaw tightens, “You know this lot?” Completely ignoring this Uncle Wilms character. “When the fuck were you going to let me in on your little game, huh? When I was lying in the dirt with a knife in my gut?” He’s pretty lethal in a fight but even he couldn’t have taken on three or four men on his own.

"Oooh you. I wouldn't have let you get hurt." Because Charlie obviously fears for Max's life with this rough lot. She doesn't have any clue just how dangerous Max really is, but look at the hooligans she hangs out with. She runs to this Uncle Wilms fellow in his flamboyant robes and flings herself at the paunchy older man. "Uncle!" A sound kiss on his cheek and then she draws back, grinning at the man's flush and stammer, "N-now child. My word. Will you ever grow up. Look here, you can't go teasing these boys at your age." There's a rosy grin for Max as he is escorted by Charlie closer. "I was going to come alone, but someone wanted to play bodyguard. Isn't that sweet?" Charlie ignores the scolding completely. Behaving is so dull.

"Fuck you," Max mutters sending a scowl her way, 'barbarian' that he is. Yes, his male ego is somewhat dented. Poor baby. And he hangs back as Charlie dashes off to greet the colourfully garbed older man. He's taking his gloves off see? Absolutely not sulking. Nuh uh. And just as he's gotten the gloves off and is about to fold his arms over his chest, and the others hanging about are getting the brunt of the filthy looks he sends, the blonde drags him over to meet her supposed uncle. A snort is uttered for the bodyguard comment, "Aye, she's a real peach." He states sardonically to the older man in an even tone making it hard to determine if he's teasing or still somewhat pissed off. "Max," he gives his name extending his hand, "And you would be…?" For there's still the matter of the traders moving around in his territory without his knowledge or 'blessing'.

Wilms laughs good naturedly and even clouts Max on the shoulder for his sulking. "Max. Wonderful. Wonderful. I'm Wilms, that brute is my son Mario." Mario, who hasn't gone to tend to the weanings, gets a flippant wave of thick fingers, "Shoo…go on. I've got this all but dealt with." When Charlie's head is turned he inclines his head a fraction closer, "Watch out for this one. She doesn't fight fair." Then he's fishing in the folds of his robe and draws out the carefully folded papers. "You'll find it all in order I expect. Wasn't aware that there was such friction here."

That clout to his shoulder has Max sending the older man a narrow eyed look and then he finally concedes and arranges a more neutral expression on his face, relaxing a touch. The man’s exuberance is infectious and finally has a corner of the southern crimelord’s mouth hitching upward as he glances Mario’s way. Mario however, gets a taunting smirk and then back to Wilms with a perfectly polite smile in place. That smile deepens and drops into a crooked grin and Max shakes his head in amusement for the warning delivered about Charlie, “Aye, so I’ve noticed.” The papers that are extracted and handed over to him are unfolded and given thorough inspection and then he gives a nod and hands them back to leader apparently satisfied with what he sees. “Sorry ‘bout that, sir,” his tone marginally rueful, “some folk don’t like a new broom what sweeps clean, aye?” sly intonation cast across his voice for that which may or may not convey what he alludes to.

"Not at all, not at all. I'm too old to get into squabbles these days. Charlie dear, do go and make sure Mario doesn't get lost hmm?" Wilms is all smiles for the girl, until she's heading off to catch up with Mario who gives her a push that sends her stumbling to one side. "Interesting. Max was it? Do I need to be aware of any changes in the trade through here then? We can hold our own but…we don't need the trouble. It just doesn't 'pay'." He rubs a hand over his belly, "C'mon, lets go admire the pretty ponies before she knocks more teeth out of the boy's head.

Max chuckles, “You remind me of someone else I know.” Though to be fair, Keane is not the sort of man one would call gregarious. Dark eyes track Charlie as she heads off with Mario and then narrow a daggered look to the man’s back as he shoves the blonde. But he reins himself in and turns his attention back to Wilms with a nod and a simple ‘Aye’, when the man questions his name. Hands set to hips and he sets the older man with an intent look at mention of trouble, and he gives careful reply, “Trouble is what trouble does, sir. Even if you ain’t out to look for it.” There he pauses and then adds in a faintly grim tone, “There’s been some problems with caravans bein’ jumped in the last turn or so. ‘Specially round them passes,” a nod of head goes toward the mountain ranges in the background, “Managed to rope a few of ‘em what’s responsible but I reckon they’re just the small fry.” Max then drops silent, his gaze dropping to his boots as if he’s giving serious thought to something and then his head lifts, “But…if you send word a head of you, I’ll see to it that you have escort and arrive without incident, aye?” Of course, there’s a price to be paid for the extra protection but that remains unsaid for the time being.

Wilms smoothes a hand down his front and beams, "I hope he is a man of impeccable taste and humor." A quick curl of one side of his impressive mustache before he chuckles good naturedly. The look he sees Max offer to Charlie is met with a sage nod and assurance, "She can hold her own." And as to the protection he makes a slight face, "We usually don't have much to interest any passer-by, but I will keep it in mind." Doubtful he'll take Max up on the offer though. Just then there's a yelp and suddenly Mario is doubled over holding onto his face and Charlie is marching away from him, towards a shaded picketline for several of the better runners. "Oh dear. We'd best go help Mario pick up his teeth hhmm? You have known Charles long?"

“Uhhh…sure,” Max responds with a crooked grin attached, trying to picture Keane and Wilms in the same room together. A soft snort is uttered in terms of Charlie being able to hold her own, “Aye, ‘specially if she has a hot beverage in hand.” The expression that crosses Wilm’s face with regards to the protection offered has the southern crimelord giving an easygoing roll of shoulders, “As you will. But you keep movin’ about with stock like that with you,” a nod toward the runners, “and you’re gonna pick someone’s interest up somewhere.” His head jerks about for the yelp and seeing Mario doubled over a deeply approving smirk appears for the blonde that marches away from him. Hands go to pockets and falls into step with the older man as he chuckles and shakes his head, “Naw, not long.” But he doesn’t say how long.

"Oh, the old 'Hot Drink' trick eh? Fast as a snake to learn that one. My wife is to thank for that. Bless her heart but she is mean as Igen in summer." Wilms chuckles, perhaps just seeing Mario looking so shame-faced, or perhaps for the warning about the runners. "oh, these aren't going with us. These are going with 'her'." A jerk of his thumb to Charlie now and then a smirk to Max who has somehow been tricked or suckered into getting them 'somewhere'. Not his concern though. "Boss, did you see that? That bitch…." And Charlie's snarl back, "I /told/ him not to fuck with me Uncle,” Wilms turns to Max, "Do you think she told him? Oh Mario, do stop sulking for the love of the first egg…." He moves off to really check on his man.

“Remind me to send your wife flowers then,” Max returns sardonically, his hand lifting to rub at the cheek that had gotten the brunt of the burning klah that day. Dark eyes widen and he’s left starting at Wilms for a moment or two before slowly turning his head to put the runners under close inspection, “These are…hers?” A low whistle of appreciation sounds out next and then a puzzled look crosses his face, “Wait up. How’s a woman like that, get her hands on stock like this?” Runners being his particular speciality, he knows a bundle of marks when he sees it. But then they’re interrupted by the sulking Mario and the snarling Charlie and once again a crooked grin forms, “Dunno ‘bout the first egg but she sure got a good shot across yours, mate.” Yup, Max is rather enjoying not being the one of the receiving end this time.

Mario is holding a hand over his face. Might be his nose, or a tooth but he's not showing off the actual wound. Hot klah is better than this, "That girl needs a swift spanking." Is the muffled growl but none of those guys are going to dish it out. Wilms checks his man over without much sympathy and then turns back to Max and gives him a puzzled look. "You really haven't known her very long eh?" Even Mario is looking at Max as though he missed the boat, just before stomping off to wash himself up. Uncle Wilms clucks his tongue as he mulls over just what he should say to Max, "It's not exactly my story to tell…and boy would I like to, over real big drinks. Lots of them. But her sister in law cares a great deal for her.

Mario’s growled comment has Max having to quickly to turn his head away in order not to laugh outright at the other man’s discomfort. And whatever thoughts he might have on the topic of spankings, he’s keeping firmly to himself, thank you very much. Brows then draw together when Wilms once again questions on how long he’s known Charlie, “No?” Query sitting in the upward lilt of his voice as he glances between the two men starting to look somewhat wary. And then a sly grin appears and he starts trying to entice the older trader into telling Charlie’s tale, “I happen to know this real sweet barkeep,” Jaya sweet? “What’s got just ‘bout any drink you could…” and then he cuts off when the words ‘sister-in-law’ catch up with him. But he says nothing, merely going quiet a moment and then casting a glance up to where Rukbat hangs in the sky, marking the time by the sun’s position. “Not to be rushin’ you, darlin’,” he calls out to Charlie, wherever she may have gotten to, “but it’s gonna take a fair ‘mount of time to get that lot in and settled.” Yeah, the fun and games are over by his reckoning for his about enough complications in his life as it is without adding the friendship of a married woman to them. He’d learned that the hard way thanks to Bowen and a certain former Lady Holder.

A small shake of Wilms head and the man sighs heavily, almost brokenly, "Would have been a blessing for all involved if the fool would have died five turns earlier but…" As Max makes ready for his departure the head-man breaths out a sigh, "Perhaps we -could- lend a hand getting you back safe and sound." A world of booze back at the Weyr? Charlie is hugging on the neck of one of the younger long yearlings, a darling little bay with more legs than body. "We could stay…the night. COuldn't we? Ooo!!"

Max doesn’t quite understand what Wilms is getting at there but considering the melancholy that seems to overtake the man, he’s not about to press. A chuckle greets the offer of help to get the mob back to the Weyr, “Reckon we can handle this lot.” Well he’s not too sure about Charlie given her reckless ride out there but he’s an old hand at rounding up and herding runners and herdbeast alike. Dark eyes touch to the blonde loving on the yearling and a regretful smile appears, “Naw, ‘fraid not, darlin’. I need to get back to the Weyr,” and his daughter whom he hasn’t seen since returning from the northern trip. “Don’t see why you can’t stay though. I’m sure your uncle will provide adequate escort in the mornin’, aye?” his query encompassing both Wilms and Charlie.

Charlie's pout isn't an act this time, she lays her cheek against the runner's neck a moment longer before drawing away, rubbing dusty hands together, "I need to take them back." She lets out a breath, "I mean, if you'd please help me get them back Max." Amazing, she can be polite. Maybe knocking Mario around or the ride settled her a bit. There's amusement flashing in Wilms's eyes at the girl inviting herself to stay and shakes his head, "We'll follow up at our speed. Perhaps the weyr has need of some fine cloth or fancy brickbrack eh?" NEvermind the weyr needing to ligthen their purses with the booze that will be consumed.

The request, politely given, earns Charlie a smile that holds no mockery to it and Max gives a dip of head to lending her assistance before moving back toward the big stallion that had slowly started to edge his way toward one of the mares. But before doing so, he extends a hand Wilm’s way, “A pleasure, sir. And I’ll be sure to give Jaya and the Headwoman a heads up that you’ll be comin’ along behind us.”

Wilms watches Charlie bound off to her runner like a much younger girl and gives Max a cheery smile as he shakes hands with Max. "Always good to meet a friend of Charles. Don't be too easy on the girl eh Max. We'll see you up at the weyr."

Will Smith - Wild, Wild West

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